Bonded
by A.Jones5
Summary: DRAMIONE. Draco and Hermione's feelings towards one another have always been ambiguous, but neither expected the war to unite them forever. In the aftermath of the Final Battle, Draco and Hermione, predominantly the latter, struggle to come to terms with their new 'circumstances'.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Just thought I'd try something a little different. This isn't going to be one shots, as I usually do. I absolutely adore Dramione fanfic, and have always considered posting some of the stuff I've written, but haven't until now. I know I'm only getting started with it, but let me know what you think so far. Hope you like it.  
DISCLAIMER: credits to J.K Rowling. **

**Ch. 1: Prologue**

 _Draco had been sturdy in his beliefs until now. Muggleborns were beneath them and should be exterminated from the wizarding world; leaving behind only loyal servants of the Dark Lord. Not once, in his seventeen years, had he questioned those morals. They were his father's divinity, and in turn would be passed onto him; moulding and bending him to Lucius' every wish. Even when he broke it down to its simplest terms: that his own free will, conscience, future, had been robbed at the hands of his father, Draco had overlooked the corrupt nature and stood by said beliefs. Draco was simply sacrificing for a greater cause, and no matter what anyone else preached, he wanted nothing more than to be in his father's good graces. No other opinion could even be considered- let alone justified._

 _Until now._

 _As he watched Hermione Granger- a mudblood- sprawled on the floor beneath his aunt. When the girl had been at his mercy; at the receiving end of his taunts and jeers about her parentage, he hadn't felt what consumed him in that moment. Absolute, and utter, horror. Draco wanted to strangle Bellatrix. Magic would make it too quick and easy. He wanted to destroy her. He wanted to inflict more pain on her than anything she had intended for Hermione. Draco felt sick at the mere thought of having to watch Hermione die, in his very house. He wanted to run and take her in his arms, hold her against his chest until the shaking stopped, until her wounds were healed, until she felt safe again. But none of that was possible. He was the enemy. He should've been revelling at the sight of their hostage rather than taking pity on her. When had his view changed?_

 _The process had been slow, and almost went unnoticed by Draco. Sometime during fifth year, he'd found that beyond blood status, there really wasn't anything to draw on when tossing jeers at the brains behind the Golden Trio. Yes, she wasn't the most attractive girl, but he found her mane of untamed curls to be fascinating and he often wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. Her eyes; albeit a murky brown, had a glint to them, full of compassion and love, regardless of the receiver. And gods had his opinion changed about what lay beneath. Draco had spent years convincing himself that she wore her uniform two sizes too big in an attempt to hide her hideous form, but the Yule Ball proved otherwise. He had never truly rid himself of the image of Hermione Granger clad in an elegant ball gown. Aside from her physical appearance, although her knowledge evoked jealousy in him, he couldn't help but admire her natural intelligence and sheer determination. Even more horrific of a realisation, was that- despite her poor choice of friends- Hermione was caring, and supportive, always putting herself second._

 _Though he would admit it to no one, Draco knew that for the past year he'd been falling for her. He had tried to stop it; tried hating her, but he couldn't. At first, he'd blamed the stress of his task, bestowed by Voldemort. Surely, he wasn't thinking straight, and found love in the enemy, simply because it was rebelling against a task he'd detested. But then he'd seen her with Weasley, and had wanted nothing more than to rip the git off her, and claim her as his. The realisation was startling, but undeniable._

 _His feelings weren't enough to change his beliefs. Of course, they had planted the seed of doubt, but Draco wasn't about to abandon seventeen years of lessons for some girl who might not reciprocate his love. Despite being muggleborn, Draco had hoped that she'd be the exception to the rule. That somehow, he wouldn't interfere with the Dark Lord's task, and in turn Voldemort would grant Draco, his loyal servant, with Hermione's life. That somehow, they would emerge from the war unscathed and pursue a future together. It was wishful thinking. Draco would never have the courage to request such an ideologically insane wish, and if he did he'd surely be killed. If on the off chance, his wish had been granted, Draco knew that she would never turn on her friends and skip off into the sunset with a Malfoy._

 _But now, hearing her blood curdling screams, everything shifted. He detested everyone who had contributed to her pain; including himself. He hated his father for teaching him to hate her. He hated his mother for not trying to prevent such a cruel upbringing. He hated Potter for not protecting his friend. He hated himself, for watching helplessly. Bella cackled while straddling her, bending low to whisper something. Hermione's head lolled to the side, and for a terrifying second Draco thought his aunt had done the deed unnoticed. Draco took an agonising step forward, when his mother placed a discrete hand on his wrist; warning. Reluctantly he stayed. Pleading brown met remorseful grey, and Draco loosened a breath as she jerked, indicating she hadn't stopped breathing yet. Silently he cast a wandless incantation that eased her from all pain. For a moment, Hermione's face glazed over with confusion before Bellatrix dragged the knife deeper into her arm, and Granger continued to howl, cry, and plead, falling into an act of agony so as not to reveal her anonymous saviour._

* * *

 _A searing pain consumed her left leg, as she hobbled across the rubble, shielding herself from the fallen bodies; too afraid to identify the faces. Hermione would wait until the aftermath to mourn, or perhaps her name would be amongst the deceased. Despite years of anticipation for this destined battle, the actual fighting had become undirected and scattered. The ultimate goal was for Harry to confront Voldemort, and end it all. Everyone else, on both sides, were just the pawns, targeting the other, without orders from a clearly defined leader; both having abandoned the scene. Hermione ground her teeth, as the court yard seemed curiously quiet to be considered a battleground. Of course, Hogwarts was the biggest building she'd ever set eyes on, but considering the abundance of death eaters and D.A members, she had expected there to be little to no space to breathe. The silence unnerved her. Pebbles clinked against the cobble stones, as she blindly moved across the expanse of ground, itching for a purpose. Her friends were inside, certainly in combat with the Death Eaters, and possibly dead, while she took a leisurely stroll. It didn't add up._

 _"_ _AVA-" came a deep, rumbling voice from a pillar, and as Hermione spun to meet the cloaked figure, a green light erupted from their wand. Too startled to react, she stood, dumbfounded, waiting for it all to be over. It's easier said than done to protect oneself in the circumstances. Hermione had spent her entire Hogwart's education researching counter active spells, shields, anything of the sort, and had mastered them perfectly. But in the moment, facing death, her mind went blank. She was reverted to her pre-wizarding years, and was as clueless as any muggle that would be placed in her current predicament. But nothing came. Maybe she was already dead, but she had thought that when one died there would be something to signify that it was all over, not this…continuous train of thought. Slowly, opening her eyes, she saw a heap of dark robes, crumpled on the ground…but how?_

 _"_ _Your welcome Granger," sneered Malfoy from behind her. He stood, hand placed against the stone wall, gripping his side. His blonde hair- blinding under the glint of sunlight- fell over his eyes, and his pale, porcelain face was smudged with blood and soot. His steely eyes never left her.  
"Thank you," she replied, timidly, both surprised by their courtesy. "Are you-"  
"Fine." He grunted, almost insulted at her insinuation. It wasn't a completely ridiculous question, considering he had somehow saved her from the most unaltering, murderous curse in existence.  
"How?" Hermione asked, genuinely perplexed, but nonetheless grateful. Draco opened his mouth, ready to offer an explanation, when the archway alongside them collapsed, and two dark figures landed in defensive stances before them. Draco tossed her a wink, killing the two intruders without a second glance and rushing off to leave her stunned._


	2. Chapter 2: Aftermath

**_Ch.2: Aftermath_**

 **You'll have noticed, if you've read any of my other stories, that I update very rapidly in the early stages of a story, and then the trend decreases, so I apologise in advance. My summer plans are hectic, so I won't always be able to update, but I will try to as much as possible. What do you think so far?**

* * *

It had been two weeks since the fateful day. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he was relieved his family had survived, for their relationship had always been strained. The Ministry had hesitantly dismissed any prison sentence, and the Malfoys had been granted salvation- although discredited in society; amongst the survivors of both the dark and light side. Draco didn't mind, for they no longer had to main their prestigious façade. Fortunately, they had retained their wealth, and despite the struggling circumstances of the family business, Lucius insisted that they would survive economically, just not societal. Draco didn't question the contradiction, and merely avoided provoking his father in any way.

During the final battle, the youngest Malfoy had defied the Dark Lord by joining forces with Harry Potter. His mother was the only reason that he wasn't already strangled and buried in the garden. Lucius rarely looked at his son now. He merely tolerated his existence.  
 _"_ _HE IS STILL YOUR SON! HE'S JUST CHOSEN HIS OWN PATH. WE MAY NOT AGREE BUT DAMN IT LUCIOUS, HE'S ALIVE! BE GRATEFUL." His mother had screamed, when his father had confronted the matter. Draco sported a black eye for weeks, and had made his presence, outside of his bedroom, scarce._

He had been reading the papers, updating himself on the death toll. Every day, he skimmed through the alphabetical list, dismissing the hundred or so names between A-F, heart stopping as he prepared himself. Her name never appeared. Draco couldn't have been more grateful. She had survived, and now that they were finished school, and the war was behind them he could let her move on with her life; none the wiser of his true feelings. It would save them both a lot of hassle. There had been times when he'd considered confessing it, kissing her, and just knowing what it would be like. He would've died happy. The desire to live out his last days full of utter happiness and love sometimes consumed him to the extent that everything else seemed pointless and dull. Why fight at all, when in the end it would all be worthless, and he would leave the earth wondering what Hermione's lips tasted like.

* * *

Hermione lay awake yet again, tormented by the grief that had enveloped the Weasley household. From the age of eleven, she had associated the Burrow with senseless joy and love; laughter in every crevice of the cramped home. It was impossible to imagine it otherwise. Now, Molly's harrowing wails seeped through the walls, reverberating around the house, seeping into one's bones. The sound was heart wrenching; gone were the tears, and were instead replaced by a hollow sound, as her body emitted animalistic, grief-stricken howls. The sleepless nights brought around a tense breakfast table, absent of Mrs. Weasley. Arthur was a ghost. He slipped into the kitchen, out of habit, though he now skipped eating, and left the house without a word. Ron stared hollowly at the empty chair, and had turned to random, angered outbursts. Harry had gone back to visit the Dursleys, insisting that he ought to salvage some form of a relationship, upon realising how helplessly mortal we all were. And George, well he was inconsolable; a piece of him had been robbed.

Yes, Hermione was torn apart by the loss. Fred had been like a brother to her, and tears never failed to spark whenever she was reminded of him. But her mind was consumed by other thoughts. Why had Draco bothered to save her? He had made it blatantly obvious, over the course of their schooldays, that he would wish nothing less than her 'deserved' death. Why not let that Death Eater finish it all? She could- should- be gone, taken like Fred and the others. That is, if Draco Malfoy hadn't interfered. Her mind then began to wander back to the day in Malfoy Manor. Her pain had vanished; her entire being was numb. Hermione had recognised the incantation immediately, but had couldn't place who had cast such a blessing. She had ruled out all of the Malfoys, and she doubted a spell that complex could be cast from the dungeons where Harry and Ron were being held. Now, she couldn't help but think that perhaps, it had been Draco. But that still didn't explain _why?_ What had she ever done to warrant such kindness? Yes, she was noble and kind…selectively. And she was sure that she had never extended such mannerisms to the blonde-haired bully. It made her felt as though she were in debt to him.

 _Perhaps, you could repay me with a kiss?_

Hermione held her head in her hands. She really needed to get out of the house, for surely imagining Draco's voice could be deduced as nothing less than utterly insane.

 _Sorry to disappoint love, but it's me, and I enjoy your thoughts too much to just leave._

 _GET OUT OF MY HEAD MALFOY! I'M NOT KIDDING, I WILL HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION._

 _You can't possibly believe I've done this purposefully, do you? I'm flattered Granger, but really I'm not that advanced. I can't leave. Believe me, I have tried._

 _Try harder, I don't want you invading my personal thoughts._ Hermione shuffled in her seat, awkwardly. How much had he already heard?

 _'_ _Oh, Weasley this, Weasley that!' Really Granger, if I were you I'd stop obsessing and move on._ Hermione sighed, defeated; he had heard far too much. But of course, that insufferable git wouldn't even have the sense to research mind reading, let alone try to counteract such happenings. Invading his enemy's thoughts wouldn't warrant him to reverse the situation.

 _You seem to be forgetting, I changed allegiance, I'm no longer the enemy. I'll have you know that I'm well practiced in occlumency, and have dabbled in legilimency. Hence, why would I bother going to such extreme lengths to invade your thoughts? Have you even considered that this goes both ways, and you don't see me whinging about my privacy?_

Indeed, Hermione pondered, if he were simply privy to her inner workings, she should not have the ability to telepathically converse freely. Spells were far more complex than that. But now, she was left with more questions than she'd initially had. Why did he save her, countlessly? What had caused this newfound ability?


	3. Chapter 3: Two's Trouble

**Ch. 3: Two's trouble**

 **So, this chapter is a bit random. I decided that most of the events will be taking place in Hogwarts, so I just crammed the highlights of their summer into one piece. The next chapter should be hopefully up tomorrow. Thanks for the response so far, and let me know what you think.**

* * *

One guilty conscience was enough, but two was unbearable. For those first two weeks Hermione had realised that she had been growing aggravated, lonesome, angry for no reason…now she knew Draco was to blame. How he came to realise they were connected telepathically, she still couldn't understand. Now, his thoughts came tumbling down at an alarming rate. Most of the time, it just stressed Hermione, as there was already enough to deal with. But when she bothered to analyse his thoughts, she wanted everything to be different.

Draco let on that he was far more resilient than he was. Hermione had always believed that he could take anything, and come back still fighting. She'd hated to admit it, but he was persistent. That would be the only way to describe it, without offering extensive praise to his character. It was unnerving, and irritating, but no doubt admirable. Now, that she understood the inner workings of his mind, she understood the opposite to be true. He was utterly tormented. Draco felt completely isolated from the world; not wanted by his father, his friends, the enemies he'd fought alongside. In addition, she realised that somewhere he had good in him- he wanted to do right by people; which inadvertently only resulted in more catastrophe.

Anytime such sympathetic thoughts passed through her mind, she immediately tried to quench them; not wanting to feel such things for Draco. Of course, he only helped in crushing any sympathy she harboured.

 _Cute Granger, but I really don't want your pity. I'm just fine._ He'd sneer down- what she'd begun to call- the 'bond'. Hermione had also attempted to just simply ignore him, in the hope it would just fade if not in use.

 _For the brightest witch of our age, I didn't expect you to be so desperately stupid. Pretending I'm not here won't do anything to change it._

* * *

Draco knew it was fool's hope, but he convinced himself that by consistently pestering her, his hatred for her would be renewed. But who was he fooling? He knew that deep down, he did it to evoke a reaction, to subtly shift their relationship. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Draco had complete access to her deepest, and most private thoughts, whereas unbeknownst to her, he was shielding his. Hermione would suspect something if she couldn't access them, so he showed her- reluctantly- everything, except how he felt. It was a strain on his magic, and left him going to sleep with a terrible headache, but it was worth it. His adept skill at occlumency meant that for now, Hermione would be none the wiser of his true intentions. It was too soon.

He awoke one morning to a tightening in his chest, short of breath and clammy. Immediately sending him into a panic. But it wasn't him.

 _Hermione! What's wrong?_ No reply. Dammit, she couldn't be so stubborn as to put her safety at risk, could she?

 _Hermione!_ He demanded, panicked- though he couldn't be sure whether it was a result of her hysteria, or his concern.

 _I'm fine. Just a nightmare._ Came the strangled reply. Draco fell back against the pillows, somewhat calmer, though the symptoms did not subside. Clearly her doing.

 _Tell me._ Though phrased as a demand, he only meant to offer comfort, and was almost certain she would reject the offer and persist to ignore him.

 _It was the Final Battle…_ she began, and for a moment he was so startled that she'd responded, that he'd forgotten to listen. _And then, while Harry and Ron lay dead at my feet…I apparated home. I was such a chicken, that I'd left. But when I arrived in the sitting room…my parents had been slaughtered._ Draco hesitated.

 _Everyone's safe now...He's gone_

 _Thanks, Draco._

He fell into an easeful slumber.

* * *

That had been the trigger. Hermione found that he was almost like a comfort, rather than a pest. Though she'd never admit that aloud. Whether he was aware of such thoughts, or had chosen to overlook them, Draco never commented. He still proved to be annoying, but not to the same extent. With Ron, only marginally improved since Fred's dead, Hermione really didn't have that many people to talk to.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, one morning as he came downstairs. She nodded, attentively.  
"I'm sorry I've been so distant lately," he said. Hermione instinctively shook her head.  
"There's nothing to apologise for Ron. It's been tough," she rested a hand atop his.

 _He's being attentive to get in your pants_

 _GO AWAY_

"Do you want to talk about it?" She offered. Ron shook his head, withdrawing slightly.  
"I was thinking we could just go to Diagon Alley for the day?" he suggested.

Draco hadn't let the house in a month, but now he had reason to. Weasley would surely try to pull something. No one came out of hibernation for nothing.

 _You're a pig._ Draco chuckled, almost forgetting the bond. He made use of it, staying in constant contact, but she never made the first move. If it weren't for him, it most likely would lay dormant.  
"Where are you going, dear?" Came the monotonous drawl from the drawing room.  
"Just getting some stuff," Draco dismissed, but his mother simply raised a suspicious eyebrow in return.

People shot wary glances in his direction, moving aside to clear a path for him. That had been habitual since childhood. While other Hogwart's students had been shoved about in the swarm, as they eagerly searched for school supplies for the upcoming year, Draco had merely glided through the crowd, as though on a red carpet. And he had believed that he deserved such treatment. Now, they moved for different reasons. People honestly thought an eighteen-year-old- barely a man- would cause a scene in a public place. Draco was no murderer. Yet his reputation preceded him.

He wasn't too sure when Hermione and the Weasel would arrive, but he had to find something to occupy himself in the meantime. It would be blatantly obvious if he were to linger in the streets, and then what? He knew he wouldn't approach her. He just needed to see her.

Hermione strolled through the chaotic streets, holding Ron's hand.  
"Where to?" She broke their silence. Without a word, he nodded towards the Quidditch store. Usually, Hermione would protest. Harry and Ron were relentless about their love of the sport, and trips into town were one of the few times she grew lonesome for lack of girl company. Today was different, and she followed without complaint.

Ron disappeared amongst the isles, and Hermione occupied herself by the book section, trying to appear interested in _The History of Quidditch_. How wizards found enjoyment through it, she would never understand.

 _Didn't take you for a Quidditch fan, love._ He appeared a few feet away.

 _And I see I'm still filth._ She hissed down the bond, and Draco hesitated, confused. _Can't even talk to me._ Hermione didn't know why it hurt so much, or why she cared. She'd persisted to tell herself that her and Draco simply co-existed, but in that moment, she realised that she'd begun to view him as a friend; he was there for her and she could talk to him easily. But now, that he didn't have the decency to acknowledge her in front of others, she knew he would be ashamed to be associated with somebody so far beneath him.

Holding back the tears, Hermione sought out Ron, who had just finished paying. Quickly shoving her way through the crowd, she realised Draco was lingering by the door.  
"Hermione." He nodded curtly, and she stumbled for a response; opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Not wanting to give him the higher ground she simply nodded and followed Ron outside.  
"What was that about? Malfoy's gone completely insane!" He howled laughing.

* * *

"Are you going back?" Ron asked, legs resting on the coffee table, letter in hand.  
"Of course, Ronald, aren't you?" she asked appalled. Hermione was over the moon. Having witnessed the destruction first hand, she'd expected the school to stay closed for at least a year, but they were making provisions. Every sixth year had been offered to return to repeat their final year. It eased some of her worries, for she'd feared she would be thrown out into the work force without any NEWTS. Now she had the chance to become a healer.  
"It wouldn't be the same. I think I'll just find a job somewhere," he shrugged, almost indifferently. Hermione was comforted by the fact that Harry had somewhat valued his education, and would be going back. Ron, having the same train of thought, added: "Harry owled last night to say he's been offered a position as an Auror, and won't be going back." Well, Hermione would be the sole seventh year student returning to Hogwarts, to make something of herself.

 _Don't forget about me._ Came the smug comment.


	4. Chapter 4: Lone Lioness

**Ch. 4: Lone Lioness**

 **So here is the next chapter! Hope you like it. Not much action really, just trying to develop their relationship gradually. Sorry if the end is a bit rushed. I wanted to update today, but I've got to go to work at 2 and won't be finished until 11. Please review xx**

* * *

Everything about this year was different. Not necessarily wrong, just different. For once, Hermione was not comforted by warm hugs from the Weasleys at the platform, or Harry, berating her for not writing enough during the summer. Those days were gone. The trio were taking different paths in life, and Hermione was the lone wolf- or more accurately, lone lioness.

"Hermione." She turned at the sound of her voice, to find Malfoy standing beside her. For a moment, she was startled. The Slytherin Prince had stooped his levels to converse with her. As Hermione glanced around she realised that there were only a handful of Slytherins who had returned.

 _I'm 'good' now, remember?_ He sneered. _They don't want me._ It was, perhaps, the most honest confession she'd ever heard; deeper than anything Harry or Ron would've shared with her that early on in their friendship. But despite herself, she couldn't toss aside seven years of hatred for such a simplicity. Pushing aside the overwhelming need to grasp his hand and shoot dirty glares at the Slytherins, she simply shrugged nonchalantly.

 _Never thought I'd see the day where I become the second best option._ That wasn't entirely true. Yes, it was a first where Draco was concerned, but in general Hermione always placed second- well, aside from academics. In terms of friendship, she was never prioritised. Of course, she loved Harry and Ron, and they never intentionally hurt her, but they were each other's best friends, and Hermione felt as though she merely tagged along. She had never felt completely wanted.

The duo remained in silence, content that- to outsiders they looked alone- they knew that, to some degree, they had each other. She had gone insane, for she had never anticipated the day when she would find comfort in his presence.

 _We're crazy together if that's the case._ Hermione glanced sidelong at him, intending to go unnoticed, only to find that he was gazing down at her fondly, and winked. Draco Malfoy winked at her! The world was ending.

There had been an unspoken agreement as they'd boarded the train, and the two found themselves sharing a cabin. Anytime Hermione glanced at the door, she found first years with their noses pressed to the glass, fascinated to find such an interesting pair. Eventually, she cast a spell to block them out, so that when they peered in there would be nothing more than empty seats.

 _A little privacy?_ Draco smirked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. She rolled her eyes, leaning back into the seat, folding her arms. Yes, they were using each other for company, but she had no intention of freely conversing with him, nor giving into his playful, teasing comments.  
"Can we make a truce?" he broke the silence, and it took Hermione a moment to register whether he had spoken aloud, or through the bond.  
"Continue."  
"We have no one else, and it's going to be an awfully long year if we don't talk to each other." He pointed out, and for once she agreed.  
 _Okay-_ She began, out of habit.  
"Okay, that sounds reasonable." Hermione nodded.

For most of the journey, they remained in a comfortable silence, watching the country hills roll by. Well, Hermione was the one looking out the window, oblivious for once. Draco was watching her intently. How he had ever found her to be unattractive he would never know. Or maybe his view had changed as she had. Hermione's hair was still untameable, but it was almost as though she'd grown into it somehow. It no longer could be considered a massive bush, for it had grown longer; the weight dragging down some of the curls so that they fell nicely, framing her porcelain face, that was scattered with freckles. She had her chin propped up on one hand, and her lips were parted slightly. He noticed, pleased, that it was one of the few times he'd seen her out of uniform. There had only been a handful of times when they'd both gone to Hogsmeade on the same weekend, and even at that, their paths hadn't crossed very many times. But he thought, fondly, muggle clothing suited her. Her jeans clung to her tightly, but beyond that her figure was concealed by a baggy hoody. It was the perfect combination of cute and desirable. For a startling moment, he wondered whether she had heard all of that, because there wasn't the usual thumping in his temples, that came with the continuous effort to block out such thoughts.

Hermione kept her facial expressions indifferent and placate, but wanted nothing more than to smile at the thought that Draco found her attractive. If it weren't for the bond, it was still blatantly obvious that he was watching her, but to have heard the thoughts sent her stomach flipping, also making herself more conscience of the way she sat. When had she become so concerned with petty, feminine traits such as that? 'Since this is the first boy you've been around that you don't consider a brother,' the little nagging voice reminded her. In truth, she had never cared much for her appearance around the two boys, for there was no need to impress them. She peeked out the corner of her eye, to notice that he wasn't aware of her thoughts; too consumed by his own.

"So…" Draco coughed, "tell me something about you, that I don't already know." He didn't know where the request had come from. He had simply needed to start a conversation, to get his mind off how irresistible she looked, or how she had potentially heard such thoughts. As Hermione turned to face him, there was nothing to signify that she had, and he relaxed slightly. Hermione contemplated it for a moment. In a few short weeks, he almost knew everything- well, everything she'd been thinking about since.  
"My parents don't know I exist." She stated, deciding that, that had been what she'd been shielding. Draco now understood her sense of loneliness, and guilt. At first, he had thought such emotions derived from Potter and the Weasel, but her parents…it explained everything. "I obliviated them before the war, and now they're somewhere in Australia." Draco could see tears welling in her eyes, and there was nothing he could say to change it. "Your turn." Hermione coughed, realising how close she had come to breaking down in front of him. Draco really didn't know what to tell her. 'I've been in love with you for the good part of a year now.' That would no doubt ruin their chance at friendship.  
"I've never had a girlfriend." He stated. Not shy about it, not exactly proud either. Hermione's eyes went wide, and she gaped at him.  
"But Pansy, and Astoria, and…" She began to protest.  
"Flings," he shrugged, "at the time I'd been exclusive with them, but it wasn't anything serious. We never labelled it, and I didn't want to. I want to properly care about my first girlfriend, and both…well they were content with our agreement." He explained. He should've been embarrassed. He'd never told anyone that. His friends had known of course, but never belittled him for it, because Draco was still getting more action than them, and without the responsibility too. He wanted her to know that he wasn't heartless. "We should probably change into our robes…" Draco added, awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, as he realised that like him, Hermione wasn't offering any comment to his confession.

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but feel that everyone watched them. Draco and Hermione had found a spot at the end of the Gryffindor table, away from everyone else. Hermione had acknowledged the handful of Gryffindors that had returned, and while she knew that there was no bad blood between them, she couldn't bring herself to sit with them and leave Draco to fend for himself.

 _I'm not a child, I don't need a babysitter!_ He snapped, glaring at her, before bowing his head, almost ashamed. _But thanks._ He added. Their interactions must've been amusing, because for the entirety of the meal neither said a word; both exchanging facial expressions, and gestures- never interacting verbally.


	5. Chapter 5: The Book

**First off, I am so overwhelmed by the response this early on! I literally love you guys. I must also apologise for the mistakes in the last chapter. I was rushing as I was on my way out to work, but if there was anything I've still overlooked let me know. Anyway, I hope this chapter is up to the expectations. Here it is…**

 **Also, I know I'm really only focusing on Hermione and Draco at the moment, but I want to develop a basis for their relationship before adding in more dynamics. I have a real soft spot for awkward Draco, who finds instability in scenarios unnatural to him. It shakes him to the very core.**

 **Massive thanks to:** **Unitatogamer** **,** **madreader19** **,** **SlytherinDarling** **,** **Drakena** **and others who reviewed.**

 **Ch. 5: The Book**

* * *

Everyone had just seemed to accept their friendship… well most. Draco wasn't bothered by the comments or sneers his fellow Slytherins shot at them, but now that he could hear her every thought, he knew it ebbed on her confidence. Hermione had always acted as though their jeers didn't affect her, and that had been a comfort to Draco, who'd previously wanted to maintain an image. But now, hearing the effect…

"Hey Malfoy's following around his whore again! The ugly mudblood must be good in bed, since he bothers to spend so much time with her." Shouted Parkinson, as they strolled- shoulder to shoulder- through the corridor.

 _It's true. I am not pretty, and without a doubt I'm sure that Draco isn't hanging out with me because I could offer him something in the more intimate aspects of a relationship…God, not that I want to! Stop thinking about him that way. Think about puppies, and flowers, and anything but naked Malfoy! Why even let my mind wander there, he's my friend, and I'm not his type?_ Draco brushed his hand against hers, considering lacing his fingers through hers-to show that he did care and that she was beyond desirable- but decided against it, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. _  
_"I'll see you later," Hermione mumbled, swerving down the nearest corridor, and he cursed himself for driving her away. He couldn't do anything right.

Hermione wandered aimlessly around the school. Although she knew her ultimate destination, she'd decided to take the prolonged journey. If he went looking for her in the library, she wouldn't be there, and by the time he'd leave, Hermione would finally venture in. She needed to be alone. While she often complained about the solitude, and hated not being wanted, she also needed space. Time to rationalise thoughts, alone. Not that she truly had the freedom to do so now.

"Hermione. How great it is to see you," drawled Luna, lazily, as she strolled up alongside her.  
"Hi Luna," she mumbled, half-heartedly.  
"So, you and Malfoy, eh? He really is something to look at. Much more handsome that Ron," she added, mystically, as though voicing her internal monologue; forgetting that Hermione was present. Her ability to drift into her own little world, ultimately meant that she was subconsciously blunt. Hermione didn't comment. With Luna's bluntness, came an untrustworthy quality, as she could- unbeknownst to herself- relay information to anyone. "Do tell Harry and Ron, I've been asking after them." She added wistfully before skipping off. She had forgotten, being so caught up in her new friendship, Hermione had almost turned her back on her other friends. She now rushed off to the library, with a newfound purpose _._

 _Dear Harry, and, Ron,_  
 _How are you both keeping? I miss you both terribly. Hogwarts really isn't the same without the two of you, and especially with the threat of Voldemort gone. It feels as though I'm getting a second chance at what a normal education- free of danger, and a Dark Lord- should be like._  
 _You'll both be delighted to hear, that I've got heaps of spare time on my hands, now that I don't have three lots of homework to do. I'm sorry, I keep reminiscing on our past years here, rather than what it is currently like. As you can imagine, there is still a great deal of construction to be done on the building, and it's a blessing we were able to return at all. There has been an increase in the amount of classes allotted to Defence Against the Dark Arts, understandably. Oh, and how could I forget? Being Head Girl is somewhat easier than I imagined. There is still a great deal of responsibility, and of course, I enjoy the authority, but it seems they're cutting us a bit of slack._  
 _Harry, what's it like being an Auror? I'm positive that you're doing excellently- you are the most suited to the job. Ron, have you found a job yet? Tell me everything that's been going on with the two of you. It's unnatural for us to be apart this long. How's everyone else doing?_  
 _All my love,_  
 _Hermione._

She had been cautious in her phrasing. Harry and Ron would freak if they thought Draco was within a three-mile radius of her. Hermione was repulsed by having to lie to her friends, but even more, because she had to hide a truly genuine friend.

 _I'm glad that I've made the final cut. Who'll break it to Potter and Weasel?_ Draco teased. Without having to look around, Hermione knew that he had just entered the library. When they'd first discovered the bond, it had been like a slight itch in her mind- almost like that one thing you're supposed to remember, but never seem to can. She had been unable to identify the feeling for days before he made the first contact. But it seemed the closer they became, the stronger the bond grew. It wasn't like a spell locator or anything. It had to be in use. It was like, when he spoke to her, she could determine how far away he was, depending on the intensity.

Sure enough, he rounded the bookshelf moments later, dropping into the seat across from her, feet brushing hers. Hermione jumped back surprised, crossing one ankle over the other, moving them behind the leg of the chair- out of his reach. He smirked, knowingly and they fell into a comfortable silence. Draco read, and, Hermione sealed the envelope slipping it into her bag, reminding herself to stop off at the Owlery. Deciding to just enjoy the company, Hermione eased open the first page of a new book.

Draco glanced over the rim of his book at her. Hermione had become a drug to him. He only felt at ease in her company.

 _Good to know._ Shit! Shit. Shit. She wasn't supposed to hear that. Draco's guard was really slipping. As he sat, freaking out internally, trying to reverse the moment, she glanced up at him from under her lashes, raising her eyebrow and smirking- almost mimicking an expression one would associate with Draco himself. _Too late to go back now, I'm slowly being corrupted._ She teased, pulling a horrified look, and going back to her book. Draco couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

Hermione glanced up, horrified, thinking he was having a convulsion or something. Never, in her entire life, had she heard Draco laugh. Yes, he'd chuckle, or make some dignified sound in response to something he deemed amusing. But nothing like the shrill laughter than rang around the room. He was clutching his side, finding the ability to breath difficult, while tilting his head back, mouth agape. It was contagious. Hermione had started giggling, amused by his unnatural state, when she'd found the humour in the insanity of the situation. Both sat, heaving in air as the laughter never ceased. When Draco finally heard her laughing, over the sound of himself, it sent him into another round; though far less graceful- becoming more disgruntled. As he took in a deep breath, his throat began emitting animalistic sounds, adding to Hermione's enjoyment. She was gripping the desk.  
"Stop, stop." She smiled, glancing up, pleading, as though he were in control of it.

 _We're unhinged._

 _Agreed._ Draco smiled, straightening up his tie, unsure of how to transition out of a situation like that. His friends had never joked around- everything had always been serious between them. At home, laughing was an impossibility. Looking back on it, there had been nothing particularly funny to strike up such a display. _But if being crazy is this much fun, then why stop?_ And with that he got up, and left.

Madame Pince appeared, looking stern, seeking out the culprits for such sound. Upon seeing Hermione, sitting blissfully unaware, smiling into thin air, the librarian shook her head, confused.

* * *

Draco heaved the leather-bound book from the shelf above his armoire. If Hermione ever knew he was in possession of this, or even had knowledge of its existence, he feared that it would reverse their progress. The black leather had intricate designs, ruins, and symbols carved into it, and the pages whispered to him; taunting. His father had surprisingly allowed Draco complete access to the Malfoy archives- one of the few unmonitored activities he'd been granted. Draco had been drawn to this book, before he had ever come to need use for its contents. Upon realising it was gone, Lucius had warned him gravely, that while it was a useful spell book and source of knowledge for ancient magic, it also had the capability to turn even the lightest wizards dark- if they happened upon the wrong section.


End file.
